Another Lost Soul
by LostInsideMyHead
Summary: Sucky summary, better story. Rating to be safe, maybe M later. Avenged Sevenfold adoption story. Not like the others, I swear!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

**Jayden has is an alcoholic, but she went through the painful process of getting off her addiction for drugs after what had happened. She's been in an orphanage for the past six months and is currently in the process of getting a new home.******

**Disclaimer: I own only the plot and my original characters. I don't own anything you might recognize.**

**It's not like other adoption stories. I know you have heard it before, but mine is different, kind of. The twists and how I write it and how the story plays out are different. Yeah, Avenged Sevenfold fathers a teenage girl who had a rough past that they find out about, (not all in mine though). But, it's different, trust me.**

I was trapped, (as trapped as any ten year old girl could be in a car doing eighty down the highway. Jumping didn't seem ideal.), in a rancid, beaten down Honda, the air around felt like an emotional rollercoaster. In my case the higher the rollercoaster crept up the tracks the more I wanted to burst into tears and scream. But, then the rollercoaster would plunge into the numbness, dark as the sea.

I was creeping to the top, ready to burst, was shaking rapidly, unable to elude the violent assault of the cold, unable to take control of my rage, but I tried to force it down by listening to the tapping the rain made on the windows. I knew I'd be sick the next day, my face swelled with fire and my upper lip was slimed with snot. No matter how much I crammed my body together or sank my nails into the fatty flesh of my arm; I couldn't kink the flow of water behind my eyelids. I should have been used to this, should I have not? Things like that happening: Her getting piss drunk and passing out on the couch again, intrusting me to baby-sit myself in the rain for three hours. Why did that surprise me?

Nothing should have shocked me anymore when it came to my mother. I should have been shocked if she went a week without one of her _moments_ happening, those 'moments' that allowed her to forget all her responsibilities in the world where she could be alone, depending on other's sympathy for her grieving period. Those moments of hers should have stopped a long time ago. It happened a long time ago and she did it to herself, she did to all of us. She acts like it was my father's fault that we left, but it's not. I know that now, maybe I always have.

"She's sorry, you know?"

Words I had heard too many times from a voice I had wished would leave sooner than later. But, knowing that him staying my mother's boyfriend wouldn't last much longer, ('cause they never did), didn't help the annoyance I felt.

I didn't say anything, like I usually did. I wasn't sure if it was for the better, bottling up my feelings, I'm still not sure even if I ended up taking my anger out on someone innocent. The reason I didn't have any friends, but one who was just as bitchy as I was.

"She feels awful and wants to make it up to you. Take you to the pool, maybe?" Right, so she can leave me there too?

"But, things will get better, she'll get better. I'm here, I'll fix things. I'll fix this."

Just touches the heart coming from a thirty-six year old, bald, unemployed drunk who turned my home from dysfunctional to dysfunctional with financial issues. He doesn't care. . He just likes my mom because of what she can do in the bedroom. Words I heard him say myself.

I looked into the rearview mirror to see his dull, baggy, green eyes. I knew I'd get slapped for saying this, _something a child shouldn't say, something a child knows nothing about._ But, I do.

I didn't look towards him as I spoke. I probably looked innocent with a blank, tear stained face.

"Do you know what I want to be when I grow up, Richard?" No.

"What's that, sweetheart?" He snickered with amusement. He never liked small talk with me, only when he was trying to get me to forgive my mother.

Smirking with mischief that reached my eyes I said, "An orphan."

It's funny, the type of wishes that get granted.

The withering, two-story house before me was a grayish, tan color, (to give off a calm aura). The owner hadn't painted it any grey; it came from the lack of care. The wood, you could see, had started to rot away, the paint on the trimming was beyond just chipped, and there were window panels loosely hanging. Despite that the house looked like it hadn't recovered from a storm, it was perfect. It reminded me of an old, Victorian house and held a beauty of its own.

Rather than what you would predict, the forbidden house at the end of Marcel St. was quite large on the inside. However, it needed to be because it didn't just shelter an elderly couple or a three unit family, but proximally twenty to twenty-five orphaned children. The majority of the space was filled by toddlers or other brats under the age of nine who were barely in the range of where adults wanted to adopt. Infants came next to populate a large amount because many wanted them and many didn't. That left two teenagers whom would leave one hell and enter the next when they were no longer legally tied to the orphanage, me being the second eldest at fifteen.

It was Saturday, so that meant there would be lots of possible parents waiting to adopt. To become a 'hero' and save another lost soul from spending an afterlife in hell, (like that matters to me since I don't believe in any afterlife), where most foster children were bound to end. Either from "overdose", "gang affiliation" or any of that made up bullshit that kids would prove true. For when you're an orphan, no one expects much from you because you won't get far in life. You're not allowed to succeed. But then, there are some rules I'm willing to break, (or sometimes I wish I was willing to break it).

Cars didn't liter the street; they did, but not as much as you see in movies or hear about in books. They came in and out through the day, maybe three cars at a time.

Adoption Day never bothered me, why should it? I wasn't going to drown myself in sorrow or cry myself to sleep because not a single adult glanced twice at me. I wasn't going to complain that I was destined to stay here until I turned eighteen, but then pretend that I wanted it that way. I don't pretend that I want it that way because that is exactly what I want: to wait out my years, if I haven't drunk me away yet.

It wouldn't surprise me if I did with the rate I'm going. You'd think I'd be ashamed because this is what my mother used to do to herself; this is what I hated about her. I swore I wouldn't do the same thing, I wouldn't do this to the people around me, but here I am doing exactly that, except I'm not doing it to anyone around me because I don't let anyone around, anyone that cares at least.

I tried not to think about her or anything as I made my way up to my closet size room that I was thankful for because it was too small to share. I wanted to get to sleep as quickly as possible, I didn't want any interactions, because I didn't want anyone noticing my pupils or smelling my breath or asking questions. Most importantly, I wanted to get to sleep while I was drunk enough.


	2. Chapter 2

My alarm clock kept flashing blue light into my room. The power had gone out for about five minutes around 3:30a.m, it was currently 4:32a.m. Some idiot drove into one of those electrical poles around the corner. Sirens were going off, people running outside to see what happened, children screaming. I wanted to scream, I had become such a light sleeper. I probably would have woken up anyways with my dreams.

It was all quiet now, except inside my head. Lately, it was rarely quiet inside there for long. The blue light continued to flash. Why hadn't I stopped it already? I reached over to the little nightstand that was at the foot of my bead near the door and hit the snooze. It was pitch black save the dim alarm clock light. I was huddled together on the middle of my plain bead. It only consisted of some old sheets, a pillow covered in a white pillowcase and a dingy, brown, wool blanket. I was fine with it though.

5:02a.m. I was going to go nuts. I couldn't stop thinking, but I also couldn't think. Everything was rushing by too fast. It was hard to process. And what I could process, I didn't like. I hated this. I hated when I didn't have easy access to alcohol, when I couldn't wash everything away.

By 5:30a.m I was too fidgety, pacing back and forth wanting to rip my hair out. I kept dragging my hands down my face like a wet paper towel would make its way down a sliding glass door. My head killed me. It was moving too fast, but my body was so tired. I needed a drink. It was too quiet, I couldn't stand it. I needed a damn drink!

It was times like this that I wished I still talked to Garrett. He never just the door on me and was always there for me since I came to the orphanage. Our friendship lasted four, almost five months, but it's my fault it ended. It had to end though.

The music thumped in my ears and the whiskey burned my throat as I leaned against a wall with Garret, his dirty blonde hair resting perfectly under his bandanna. Mine was probably frizzy because I like to touch it when I was out of it. I was always so hyper and child-like when I was drunk.

The party was roaring with life, but the noise was inaudible which was good. I was drunk, but not drunk enough. I looked over to Garrett, blank-faced, starring at all the dancing teens.

"It's too quiet, let's talk." I slurred, glancing to the handsome fellow next to me.

He sighed, knowingly. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know." I started to laugh. "Wouldn't it be-" But, I was cut off.

"Stop, I know what you're going to say. We had this conversation earlier, twice. If you want to talk, then let's talk about this: you need to stop blaming yourself."

I was quickly sobering up now, something I didn't like. I liked to stay clouded.

"I don't want to talk about this."

I knew he was annoyed, but I was getting pissed. He persisted.

"Things happen, you can't-"

"Shut up, shut up!" I didn't scream for the fact that I gritted my teeth together.

"No! You need-"

We were both standing right now. I was ready to leave any moment. I wasn't going to take this shit; I could live however I wanted.

"You, have no clue what it is like. You do not have the right." My words were very slow and quiet; deadly.

"Jayden…" He said softly, trying to calm me down.

"I shouldn't have told you, just stay away from me." I was crying now.

It was too early for anyone I knew to be up or willing to fulfill my craving, (besides _him_), but it was too late to try because everyone would be getting up in a couple hours and I would get caught. I'm sure there's something in my file that skims over my tragedies in life and I'm sure they got to know I'm fucked up, but I don't need them adding alcoholism to it.

By the time 8:30a.m rolled around, people were up and getting ready for the day. Showers could be heard; lines waiting for the bathrooms could be seen. I'm glad I didn't need it since we only had two, both on the top floor where my room was. The down stairs consisted of the kitchen, Mary's-she owned the place and took care of us-office, her room, and the living room which was almost empty. The kitchen was the fullest since the only employees, (there were three), here were trying to feed everyone.

The smell of fresh bacon and eggs made me want to hurl. The smell used to make my mouth water, but now food in general made me nauseous. I had to eat though, so I grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat myself down in front of the T.V. I didn't know what cartoon the toddlers had decided to watch this time and I didn't care. I would be leaving as soon as I was done eating.

It was warm outside, but I still wore my blue, low-rise jeans that had a rip or two in the thighs with my slip-on, black, fitting sweatshirt. Underneath, I had on a regular black t-shirt. I was making my way to the park or that's what Mary thinks I'm doing. I might later, but I feel like walking around town. You'd think I'd be more cautious and not go alone after what happened. You'd think I'd be scarred, I am, but I don't really care about anything anymore. Plus, I'm too paranoid and untrusting to bring anyone with me. If anything did happen they'd only get in my way, that's why I don't hang out with anyone for too long, I'm mostly alone.

"My god, you couldn't wait thirty minutes for me! I had to run all the way to catch up to you!" A girl screeched in my ear. I only know one girl who would dare to do that. Who am I kidding? I only know one girl.

My best-y, if you wish, was at my side with that infamous crocodile grin on her face. Her blonde hair now had blue in it. I'm sure she wanted to tell me all about her three-day camping trip with her mother and how she talked her into letting her color her hair. Jacklyn, my 'best-y', is in the orphanage because her mother was proven unfit, but is trying to rehabilitate herself, so until then Jacklyn belongs to the state.

I laughed as we continued down the street, most likely unconsciously heading towards Adam's. He always was throwing a party or at least had booze to offer. The sidewalk wasn't packed with people like the street was with cars. It was good with me since crowds made me anxious. But, I go to parties? I know, right. But, I guess I'm fine as long as I stay to the side.

I didn't get to hear what Jacklyn had to say because we arrived at Adam's, going our separate ways, but both getting shit-faced. And on the way home we were too busy giggling like school girls and sneaking into our rooms before we were noticed.

I managed to do it, but I wasn't sure about Jacklyn. I didn't hear any yelling, so I assumed it was safe. I stripped off my shoes and sweatshirt making my way towards my bed. I bumped into my dresser across from my bed, near the window. I had knocked a picture off of it. I picked it up and sat on my bed. Looking at it, my heart sank.

Sometimes I wondered why I never tried to get a hold of my dad when I was younger, but now, sometimes I'm glad I didn't. What would he think if he saw me this way? I loved him and I didn't want to disappoint him. That's why it's better to not be around him or think about him. It was of my father and me. I was on his lap and I was wearing my beanie that said: Baby Shadows.

You wouldn't like what I became daddy.


End file.
